O Birds Gotta FlyFish Gotta SwimBuffy Gotta
by Manchester
Summary: No, the above statement doesn't end with "Slay." At least, not in this story.


She was SO going to get an "A".

Buffy Summers happily smiled to herself as she walked through the parking lot to the front entrance of her destination. Her good mood only grew as the Slayer considered how impressed her psychology professor was going to be by her essay paper that would be turned in tomorrow.

Ever since the beginning of her college class several weeks ago, concerning the scientific study of the human mind, Buffy had found herself actually liking school. Besides the sheer fact that enrolling in UCS had achieved a rare accomplishment of something totally human and ordinary in her life on the Hellmouth, Buffy had become fascinated in learning more about how people thought. Surprising the other members of the Scooby Gang, the young blonde had actually cracked her books and applied herself to her studies.

She'd also fallen under the spell of her teacher. Margaret Walsh was clearly a brainy, knowledgeable, mature woman at the peak of her career, something that had rarely appeared before in the existence of the California girl. Gradually, Buffy had become determined to make a good impression upon Professor Walsh in the class, and she'd been wracking her brains on how to accomplish this.

Buffy hadn't yet figured out what to do to make the professor notice her, when today's class had been interrupted by a young man that the Slayer had seen around the campus a few times before. This teacher's assistant, a guy named Riley, had entered the room during the middle of the teacher's lecture. A surprised Professor Walsh had then read the note the assistant had handed her, all while Buffy and most of the rest of the females in the class (and a few guys) had examined a truly fine butt attached to an equally toned man's body patiently standing there, waiting for the woman's response.

It had resulted in the professor telling the class that something had come up and that today's lessons were cancelled. However, the students were given an assignment that would be due tomorrow: write a one-page essay paper describing an obscure state of mind common to themselves, and be imaginative and creative in depicting this. As the teacher and her assistant had left the room, Buffy had started thinking hard on what to come up with for her own paper.

After, of course, watching Riley's butt flex during that man's exit.

After the rest of her classes for the day, Buffy had entered the college library, unconsciously looking around for someone in tweed, until she sighed, shook her head ruefully, and then the young woman went in search of the psychology section.

An hour later, Buffy scowled at the textbook she was flipping through, the last of a stack of volumes resting on the table where she'd been conducting her research. Unsuccessfully, so far. She just hadn't been able to find something that would really impress Professor Walsh and make that woman finally notice little ol' Buffy Summers. As the college student grumbled to herself and continued her search through a list of definitions of human activities, a rather strange word in that psychology book caught the Slayer's attention, making her stop turning the pages, and blink in perplexity as she stared at this word.

*Why's something about vegetables been written in here?* wondered Buffy, as she looked further down the page for the meaning of this oddly-named psychological condition. An instant later, the heads of several other people in the study area jerked upwards, as their own researches were interrupted by a wild whoop of delight that ended in rather maniac cackling, as a short girl with blond hair gleefully jumped up from her chair, and then quite improperly dashed out of the room, without any consideration whatsoever for her startled fellow students.

Later that afternoon, Elizabeth Anne Summers walked through the front doors of the Sunnydale Mall, and she took a deep breath of her true home, while reminding herself to carefully note down on her essay for later her every single feeling of performing, as she'd done so many times before in her life to escape the burdens of being the Slayer, an activity known as buying as a form of mental relaxation.

In the warm glow of her oniochalasia, Buffy pulled out her credit card from her pants pocket, and she went off to shop for lots and lots of shoes.


End file.
